The Aftermath
by ledzebra
Summary: SPOILERS FOR FIRST GAME! What happens to Altaïr and co at the end of the first game? This is my thoughts. New chapters will be uploaded as an when. Some minor h/c.
1. Chapter 1

Malik's hand flicked over his newly painted map, his ears lifting as he heard the dull twang of an archer's bow in the near distance. Not many trespassed on the roofs, not many knew of the bureau. Soon came the sounds of civilian screams, and heavy footsteps on the rooftops above him. Malik left his counter and lifted himself up to calmly look out. Civilians were screaming at the fallen archer, and the man in the white hood had every guard in Jerusalem surrounding him. Malik shook his head and pulled the shutter across the bureau entrance and dropped down.

He looked up at the clear sky and traced an eagle's path through the metal bars, finding some peace amongst the clashing of swords paining his left ear. He sighed as he heard more guards drop to the ground, and more civilian's cries.

He went back to his counter and continued his work. His mind was elsewhere though. He had been out, out in the city and heard grave news, he new his work, and Altaïr's was in trouble. Ever since Altaïr had defeated Al Mualim in Masyaf, the other cities have been wary. Initially, Malik and Altaïr fled to Damascus where the rafiq there kept them in his bureau and well hidden. Altaïr's work against Al Mualim, and the other 9 Templar villains had freed all the civilians, and opened their eyes to the evil and the command placed apon them. They had taken apon Masyaf, flames had engulfed the city. Most of the villagers had managed to flee, and those who didn't were only there to lend themselves to the firey revenge. Most of the brotherhood was disbanded, a large amount of the other assassin's killed, by Altaïr on his way to Al Mualim, or killed by the civilians. Others had broken away from the brotherhood, and gone into hiding into the surrounding cities. This was what Malik had wanted to do, but he knew Altaïr had other plans. The two used to be good together, and there were still many with corruption flowing in their blood. They rode to Damascus on horseback with the others that went into hiding, but in the early hours of the morning, they slipped into the Bureau, and were guided on who was still remaining. They dressed as civillians and acted like them for a few days whilst the rafiq got them information. They left the city and went to Jerusalem, where the guards were still tough, but nobody knew why.

Malik got up, he couldn't focus on his maps. He had been making an intricate one of Jerusalem for no reason, it was more out of habit, out of focus, just in case they might miss something, if anything were to happen. Malik shook his head to get rid of the thought. Everything would be fine, he could trust Altaïr, at least the new Altaïr.

The civillians had stopped crying and the swords had stopped clashing. Malik half climbed up to pull back the hatch to the bureau once more. Swift footsteps danced their way over the beams like a true assassins. Malik went back to the counter once more, and heard the squeak of the bars as Altaïr dropped down. He didn't even wait for Altaïr to enter this time, he already started talking.

"You should be more careful!" Malik cried

"As should you, what if it wasn't me who stepped into the Bureau."

"Yes, what if it was one of the dozens of guards who seem to know what you are doing!"

"They know nothing of me, I am a civillian with a blade, the assassin's cloak is long gone. It is my job to pick them off."

"Well do so, without dropping the bodies onto the market stalls!"  
>"If I didn't, when would you know to open the hatch?"<p>

"Please, Altaïr, refrain from being clever with me. We are in danger, they know we aren't in Damascus"

"They don't know we're here."

"Altaïr, please, just don't do anything stupid."

"Malik, you're too worried, I advise you to do the same. Stay calm and all will be okay."

"Okay." Malik said no more. "You bring me news?"

"Yes, I have a letter from one of the guards I killed, a letter to someone based in Masyaf."

"Stay out of it, Altaïr, we aren't going back to Masyaf."

"No, but it tells us someone is still part of the Templars, someone is still reining power, we are closer to finding out the reasons for the guards actions."

"Rest now, Altaïr, I am going to go out into the streets, and see if I can find any information."

"Fine."

Malik pulled back the hatch and opened it, scrambling up using his feet and right arm. He was okay, but not as good as Altaïr since he lost his arm. He didn't like to climb anyway, unless he was sketching a map from high up, he was out of practice, the archers would strike him easily. He skipped over the roof and down the ladder and onto the ground, entering the busy marketplace. he pulled is hood up, and turned sideways to blend amongst the crowd. His face was solemn in the crowd of busy people, merchants, tourists, begars, whatever, but this time there wasn't a fight like normal. Malik would usually be fighting as an orphan ran into him after stealing a chicken, or a woman carrying a vase would be coming in the other direction, and it would break causing a scene, no, not this time, there was no fight against the tide. Where were all these people going? He chose to follow them, there was obviously something important happening today. He rounded the corner and there was a huge crowd, and a speaker, yet no guards protecting him. Malik worked his way through the crowd, until he was close enough to see the speaker properly. Thin. Old. Poor. Dust from the streets lined his clothes and his voice was dry from dehydration. Why would people want to come and hear him speak?

"Silence, please. I have news, I bring news." Said he. The whole crowd fell silent. "I come from the poor district, but I stand here before you to declare news. Great news. Word has spread about the assassin, and the true meaning of our previous leaders" The crowd jested in a collective understanding. "God praise the assassin and his helpers, but word has spread he has left Damascus, perhaps he is here among us. Tell me, please, where is this assassin, why are our the guards number's diminishing, what is left of the reign here in Jerusalem, over the holy land? I tell you this, we shouldn't have a reign over a land so holy. Don't listen to the laws of the guards, listen to the laws of God, for God is not a Templar. I'd advise the assassin and his men to do the same, or at least not the will of God..."

Malik had had enough by this point. What is God to these people? Malik kicked the dust back to the bureau, as he got to the fringes of the crowd. The sun glinted off of something, and Malik turned his head. A blade. He felt a note of panic rise in him. He told himself to stay calm, Altaïr was right. He looked at the man, and saw him making eye contact with another, and then another. The speaker was surrounded by guards, dotted throughout the crowd, Malik turned but caught the eye of the guard, he ran as fast as he could but the guard tripped him and pulled back his hood. The guard dragged him away from the crowd and threw him into the side of a market stall, which collapsed. The guard knelt down and laughed at him. He pulled out his blade and cut Malik's arm, right along where he would have lost it on the other side. Then he kicked dirt in his face and spat in it, and went back to join the crowd.

Malik stood up and brushed the dust of his clothes, and his face, and put his hood back up. These civillian clothes he and Altaïr had taken to wearing had had a good effect until now, had he ruined everything, the guard didn't know him, the guard was just having some fun, right? Malik walked the deserted mid-morning streets until he reached a fountain, where he washed his face and arm. He would have to go back to the bureau to get a bandage for it and rest. He walked a long route round, it was eerie like this, he should have stayed listening to the speaker, what more did the speaker know. He had to know. He climbed up on the roof and listened, but the speaker was too far away, he couldn't make out a single thing. He would go later and listen to the tradesmen's conversations, for now, he would go back to the bureau.


	2. Chapter 2

His feet finally touched the floor once again, and Altaïr was sleeping on the cushions. Malik crept past and tied a bandage of cloth over his arm using his teeth mainly, he removed his hood and wrote down what he knew. He had a dilemma. He couldn't tell Altaïr what had happened, that emotion turned him away, and curiosity got him hurt, he was going to tell him what he knew, but not what had happened. Lying certainly wouldn't help, but he didn't want to go back to Masyaf, he was sure of the danger there.

Soon, Altaïr awoke, and entered the room. "What news?"

"There was a speaker today, he spoke praise of us, but warned against the guards, and recommended we do not do the work of God."  
>"Us?"<p>

"Yes, 'the assassin and his men'. They notice your work, Altaïr, the swift removal of the guards from their posts."

"And the work of God, it sickens me, I am not working for God or because I feel I am God, this is like when I fought Robert! 'let God decide' it is wicked, that is the ultimate crime against faith, they do not believe in him-"

"Altaïr, you forget the civillians, especially those poorest, for whom religion is almost a purpose." Altair looked away.

"Yes, the civillians, speaking out, showing me out there."

"Altair, there were guards, hidden. He spoke of them too, they know they're Templars, at least the speaker does."

"Be wary of the guards Malik, cause no trouble, don't let them see your face"

"Altaïr, do you take me for a fool?"

"But who can I trust?"

"Leave, Altaïr, you are meant to have faith in me, go and see for yourself."

Altaïr was troubled by the words of Malik, why was he being hostile and protective. There was an air of panic about him. Altaïr did leave him, and it wasn't long before the hatch was closed behind him. That wasn't normal. What was Malik hiding?

Altair jumped down from the roof and into a back alley. Some armed men were holding a civillian infront of him, claiming she was a theif. Altaïr flicked his hidden blades, sneaking up behind. One man was stood guarding from the front, the other two were groping and looting the poor woman. He walked up and stuck the blade into the neck of the man on the left, and then the right. He swiftly turned and made sure the woman stayed still and quiet. The guard stood laughing, one, two three steps and into the neck.

The woman was going to cry out, but Altaïr put his hand over her mouth. "Stay quiet, do not mention me. I will save you or anyone whenever they need it, but don't mention me."

"But wait!" she cried "you're him, aren't you? The one trying to free us?" Altaïr turned sharply.

"Don't speak of these things, you must be careful who you trust."

"Listen, I have much to say, bring yourself to my adress tomorrow." She gave him an adress in the middle district, and continued to talk to him. He slid away from her, and into a crowd, who were all wearing similar coloured cloaks. She followed, so he broke into a run down and into the crowded marketplace. People were moving to slowly so he jumped and pulled himself up then hopped across the roof beams and along. Then he climbed slowly down a ladder and found himself on the stone recreational area. There were pebbels and dust and remnants of bread scattered about, and two workers were sweeping it. A big crowd had been here.7

"Heyy, Hey man, you with the hood... hey if you wanted to hear him speak, he's gone now, they took him away." A drunkard on a bench said across the yard.

"The speaker was here. Who took him?"  
>"I don't know, some men" The drunkard laughed, quoting some mismatched jumble. Altaïr left him and walked to the calm peaceful location of the fountain, and looked at his face in the water. He was tired, physically. He knelt down and removed his hood, washing the water over his face. He heard footsteps, pulled his hood up and clambered up onto the roof.<p>

Two guards sat on the bench nearest the fountain, they were discussing their daily work.

"I hate my post, so many of the drunk and insane push in to me"

"Leave them" said the older, taller one. "They're not hurting you, yes they want your money, yes they push into you, but they aren't a threat to the city."

"I suppose, but nothing ever happens, I stand in a doorway all day, it's not fair, honestly."

"Ha! What is fair anyway? You get paid, you get food and drink, so shut up about it." The older one remarked. "I do agree though, they are annoying, the tramps and beggars of the city. I went to that poor man's speech this morning, you know?"

"Did you hear him, praising that assassin? How much he will learn!" The young one shouted

"I didn't hear his words, I was too busy dealing with some stupid civillian tramp. He only had one arm."

Altaïr tensed where he was poised, listening, directly above them.

"That's unusual for them to live with one arm. What did he do?"  
>"He tripped and fell, and looked at me. He saw my knife so I dragged him away and did what was necessary."<br>"You KILLED him?" The older one slapped the young one.

"Of course not, I kicked dust in his face and cut his arm."

"What if someone saw?"

"Nobody saw"

"What if the assassin saw?"  
>"There's no such thing."<p>

Altaïr froze. The guards were right, it is unusual for a civillian to survive with one arm, it usually kills them or at least causes them a great deal of suffering, so they cannot work. He moved from where he crouched and dropped down over the wall, moving back along the dusty streets. It had to be Malik, he deliberately went to that speech, he came back before it was over, and this proved Altaïr's suspicions to be correct, that something was being hidden.

Altaïr climbed up to the roof and sat behind a tall stone block, thinking about the words to say to Malik. An hour passed before Altaïr decided to move again, Malik must have his reasons, he isn't one of them, and Altaïr had been feeling concern for him, concerned that Malik was becoming to emotional and personal with their goal, he would have to go and speak with him.

It was dusky now, early for dusk but it was, the sun began setting and the streets got dark. People retired to their homes and the smell of spices and warm meat started to waft up to the rooftops over which Altaïr's feet flew.

He reached the bureau and the hatch was shut. He kicked at it with his feet making the bars rattle, and Malik came out.

"Sorry, my friend, I was busy making maps and I forgot to open the hatch."

"I have news, Malik" Altaïr climbed down into the bureau and landed close to Malik, who moved backwards into the workroom. "But first, my blade needs sharpening" he said, pulling out his dagger. Malik cried out and stumbled backwards, using his arm to sheild his face from Altaïr's dagger. Altaïr stood and shook his head, replacing the dagger. He sat down on the stone floor next to Malik, and helped him sit up.

"Altaïr, I..."

"What happened, Malik, why did you get seen amongst a crowd of the entire population of this district? Why you?"  
>"Please, brother, I'm sorry."<p>

"Save it, we have no time. Just explain and nothing more."  
>"Altaïr, it... okay. The speaker was talking about God, the illusion that they all follow so readily, I couldn't take to listen to him anymore, likening you to an illusion."<br>"You know better than that Malik."  
>"As I was leaving, Altaïr, I saw the glint of a blade, and noticed what must have been forty guards hidden amongst the crowd. The guard took note of me, he took me and he hurt me." Altaïr sighed, and he pulled up the sleeve of Malik's clothes, a loose rag was all that was soaking up the blood.<p>

"Let me sort out your arm." Altaïr went and filled a wooden barrell with water from the tap in the bureau, he returned and removed the makeshift bandage, revealing a long wound. Malik took some cloth and soaked it in the water, cleaning off the blood and dirt, whilst Altair made a better bandage for it. "Why lie to me?"  
>"I knew you were right, I'm too emotional, I'm sad for the city of Masyaf, and the brotherhood, and I'm tired of stupid Templars and guards."<p>

"Emotion is useful, but it also isn't, it leads you to stupidity. The news I bring is that the speaker was later taken away, possibly by the guards. If he's dead, we are closer to being tracked."

"I'm sorry Altaïr, Really."

"You aren't the only one, a citizen I saved today has begged me to hear her, she tells me she has information. I cannot resist, but I also cannot go alone. You will come, Malik? early tomorrow we shall see her."

Malik nodded, and he let Altaïr tie the cloth bandage around his now stinging arm. Altaïr was giving him the benefit of the doubt, for the time being. He needed to get a grip, he needed to start paying attention to himself.


End file.
